Opposites
by Hear.My.Screams
Summary: Tweek wasn't my enemy. He wasn't someone I hated—but he also wasn't someone I respected or agreed with very often. Blue and Orange were opposites. Just like Tweek and I. Creek.
1. Chapter 1

"What the hell are you talking about, man? Don't you see that orange looks horrible with blue? If you'd just listen to me for one second-- we wouldn't have this horribly ugly,ugly—thing! Oh my god, Craig, you have to be kidding me..."

I groan, rolling my eyes. I should be used to this by now and I guess I am. But the added little features seems to piss off the offending teammate.. He musters up the nastiest glare he can and throws it at me with those oddly colored eyes. If it was anyone else they would flinch, but it wasn't. This was me. Craig Tucker.

And the skinny little bitch I'm fighting with?

Oh, thats the towns freak, Tweek. Who somehow got paired up with me for this project.

Now, don't get the situation wrong. Tweek wasn't my enemy. He wasn't someone I hated—but he also wasn't someone I respected or agreed with very often. Somehow we found a way to jump out of our seats in the middle of class and scream at each other, yelling obscenities and defending our opinion on the topic at hand. You wouldn't think of him as the type of kid to defend anything. But oh, no, that kid can yell and he can yell well.

"Who gives a fuck? Isn't Orange and Blue supposed to be like, team colors? Because They're opposite? It looks nice, and if worse comes to worse, we'll just say we were thinking of the Denver Broncos."

He continues glaring at me and picks up the oddly colored egg. Just like in elementary school, we had to do a project involving taking care of an egg as if it was our child. Except this time it was for Home Economics.

"Whatever, Craig. Just don't expect me to be the one to carry this thing around at school," He turn the egg over and gingerly runs his finger over the plastic surface of the eggs googley eye. He seemed to actually _care_ about the goddamn thing. Like Wendy did with her project in the fourth grade. This kid is a fucking _freak_. But at least I know we'd get a good project grade.

I sit back down in my chair. _My_chair. The one on my front lawn that the little spastic freak was sitting in before hand. Ha! Now he has no where to sit.

But he doesn't seem to care and takes a nice seat on the grass below him. His gaze is still directed down at the egg and his legs are crossed pretzel style.

Any complete stranger that didn't go to our school or didn't live in our town would think we were friends. And for some reason that bugged me. I didn't want to be considered Tweek's _friend_. But I didn't want to be considered an enemy either. What we were as far as relationships go, I didn't know.

I rest my head in the palm of my hands and continue staring at the twitchy blond on the floor.

The thing that seriously bothered me was that Tweek wasn't ugly. He wasn't ugly _at all._ I wouldn't say hes handsome though. He has a more feminine type features and I've always noticed that since the time we were in the hospital together in third grade. He had one little beauty mark under his eye. And his eyes themselves were oddly colored. A greenish brown and in there own way they just made him prettier. His lips were plump and full and his blond hair was always a wreck. I remember always wanted to run my fingers through it to fix that unruly hair.

Oh, and his clothes. He always seemed to wear one green sweater. On the back of it was a cartoonish looking picture of a coffee mug—which in my eyes, was perfect because he was always sucking down a cup of coffee. I absolutely adored the baggy pants he wears and I never knew why. His looks and clothes may be the only thing I agree with him on. But I'm not oh so positive if he likes my attire or appearance.

Oh, my. I was oddly colored all over. Brown eyes, Dark brown hair, _freckles_. I curse my father for being a ginger. My sister was cursed with red hair but I got lucky. I got my grandmothers pretty dark brown hair—that can easily be mistaken for black. I often wore the color blue because, hell, it was my favorite color! And I loved to throw yellow in the mix.

See, I was weird when it came to colors. Thats why I choose blue and orange. Tweek just doesn't understand that though and its just another thing to argue about.

"Dude, its getting late," Out of no where the words fall out of his mouth and I suddenly notice that its dark out. I look to my house which has the front door open, and then I look back to the person talking to me.

"Then go home." I State, blankly. He rolls his eyes, and lifts himself up. He seems to brush of the grass and dirt off of himself. And shoves the egg to my chest.

"You take it tonight, I have to work."

And with that he begins to make his way off my front lawn and onto the sidewalk. He goes back to his life and its time to go back to mine.

I let out a sigh, and I can see my breathe. It is late. And I guess its time to start to head in.

I look down at the egg and its odd colors. Blue and Orange were opposites. Just like Tweek and I.

–


	2. Chapter 2

School wasn't something I enjoyed and it wasn't somewhere I was liked. _No_. I'm the freak of the school. The anorexic boy with fucked up teeth. The only thing that gains me some kind of respect is my high ranking on the debate team. Everyone else on it sucks. Especially the kid I seem to debate with the most, Craig Tucker.

But the debate team ups your grade in Global Studies and that why so many kids pursue it. The only kids I believe are doing by free will are Wendy Testaburger and Kyle Broflovski. Who I swear are fucking each other in their free time in the sports equipment room. No one else has the same, disgusting voice as Kyle and there is no other Wendy in the school. Poor Stan. He has no idea that while hes gnawing on his pretty little googly pen Wendy gave him, said girl is screaming out another guys name.

But thats another story entirely and not one I will pursue while I'm telling mine. I guess I should start off at my current whereabouts and what I'm doing, huh? Well now I'm currently seated in a stool behind the counter of _my_ coffee shop. And yes, I would like to say its mine. You see, when I first entered middle school, I believe it was sixth grade, my father had passed away and left my mother and me with his little coffee shop. My mom, however owns it and runs it now. But since the Coffee shop goes to me once my mother passes on, I like to think of it as mine. I Take some kind of pride in the fact that one day I'll be the owner of Tweak's Coffee. Although I've been told our coffee taste like Sewer Water. And although I'm sure no one really has the balls to go and taste sewer water, they're probably right.

But we have some loyal costumers that I love serving a nice, hot, fresh cup of joe to. They come and go and plus—we have hard competition. A Harbucks that is conveniently located right next to our coffee shop. People still visit us, however. Like I said, Loyal Customers.

But today the shop is abandoned and I'm tempted just to close up early. Its only my mom sitting in one of the booths, shaking her head no at me—that is stopping me from doing so. I shift uncomfortably in my stool, staring down at the counter until I hear a 'ding'. Meaning the door to the shop has opened. And as I look up I notice its one of Craig's friends who I absolutely despise. Thomas Braker. Ew.

"Sorry, We're closing up." I know your supposed to serve everyone and not discriminate—but I can't help it. I don't want to see this, this, _faggot_ right now. I stand up from my stool and reach over to the "Open" sign in the window, quickly turning it so it says close. The honey blond boy rolls his eyes. And my mom looks up from her magazine. Laying it down on her lap.

"Sweetie, its too early to close up, just get him a quick cup." My mom says, her voice coated with honey. Shes so sweet and I hate that about her. I groan, clench my free fist, and turn to the coffee machine. I do not want to serve this kid. He should be serving me. And one day, when I'm high and mighty and I own this here coffee shop, he _will_.

I turn it on and put the coffee pot under it, watching as the liquid drips into it.

"Shiat! So how are ya, Tweeks?" I roll my eyes, and tug at my apron. I really hate this kid.

"I'm tired, my ass hurts and I want to go home. You keeping me here longer doesn't help. And how are you?" When I say this, I turn my head over my shoulder and look at him as he squirms, thats right bitch. It better _sting_.

But this is when my mother intervenes with throwing a magazine at my face.

"Tweek, Richard, Tweak! Do _not_ be rude to our customers!" Thomas snickers and I Shrink to the size of an inchworm. My mom find enjoyment in embarrassing me in front of our customers. She knows how much I Hate it when she uses my middle name. Its my fathers name and I tear up whenever she says it.

And thats what I'm doing right now. Biting my lip to hold myself back from crying, and I take the coffee pot out from under the machine and pour my customer his drink. I Should pour this on that kids goddamn head and kick his ass out. But don't have that kind of power.

I turn around I try to put on a nice smile. Being that one of the rules in this shop is; "We Serve Our Customers With A Smile!".

"Here is your coffee, Thomas." He grins at me, and takes it from my hands. His smile annoys me even further but I say nothing about it.

I really hate my job, sometimes.

–

But I love the debate team.

Thats all I can think about at this moment now in my art class. Everyone is doing the current project which involves sketching the human body. But instead of doing what I'm assigned, I Sit here and gnaw at my pencil, thinking about what todays topic is. Last week we did female rights and Wendy Testaburger jumped on it. Craig was actually absent for once, so I didn't have as much fun as I usually do.

I smile into the green sleeves of my jacket. My head is currently rested on the table while I use my arms as a shield from the light. Its always so goddamn bright in the art room and I was never aware why. I Guess its because it gives better lighting to color in.

"Mr. Tweak, please do the assigned work." My snotty teacher says. I forgot her name because she is honestly not a significant person in my life. Shes just Ms. Whatsherface.

"Mhmmn." I mumble, lifting my head up. The assigned work was easy but not something I felt like doing. I turn my head over to the side and I notice that Craig is seated beside me. As well as Clyde who is across from me. Where the hell did these guys come from? I groan, rubbing my left eyes.

"Its your turn to take the project," He states blankly. And I glare at him, evilly, hardly. But this never effects him and he reaches down and puts it in my messenger bag. I send him another nasty look and reach in and take it out. It could get squished in there!

"Idiot, you could have killed it." I say, looking down at the egg and caressing its oddly colored shell. Craig's mouth opens dumbly and he now glares at me.

"Killed it? _Killed it_? Are you fucking kidding me? Its an _egg_, Tweek. Not a person. If worse comes to worse we could just replace the fucking thing!" He yells and I send him the nastiest glare I can muster up, and reach my free hand out and lightly push his chest.

"Do _not_ speak that way infront of the baby! You'll hurt its feelings," And by now hes standing up in his chair, his hand firmly rested on my shoulder. I glare at it as if that will make his hand explode.

"Tweek, it doesn't have feelings! Its an _egg_!"

At this Clyde groans and both of our attention turns to him. He seems to be rubbing his temples when he says something unexpected and accurate.

"You guys are like a fucking married couple, I swear. Always fighting and now _this_? Its like you had a child and your fighting about its wellbeing."

My jaw drops, and then closes as son as it opened. And I almost laugh. Because it was almost that funny, what he just said.

"Haha, right. Like I'd ever get married to Tweek."

And for some reason, I don't know what it was, that hit me like a ton of bricks. That actually hurt and I don't know why it did. It shouldn't matter if Craig would never get married to me. Its ridiculous, the thought of it.

"And why wouldn't you?" The whole classroom is silent by now. Everyone has their eyes glued on us because they know when we fight its usually best to keep their mouth shut and not get involved. It takes a few minutes for him to come up with something and I know he must have been thinking hard on why not.

"It might have something to do with you guys trying to kill eachother," Clyde adds in. Sitting back in his seat.

I throw a glare at Clyde, and he flinches.

"Who's to say, we might make a great couple!"

Once I realize what I just said, I reach my hand up to my mouth, covering it. Shit. I notice now that everyone in the room is staring at me in awe. I can't believe I just said that. I can't believe I got so defensive over something so stupid. I feel my cheeks heat up, I'm turning red.

At this point, I grab the egg off the table where I left it, and begin to make my way out of the classroom. I can feel their eyes on me, but mostly, I feel Craig's.

–

I'm now working on the third chapter. I feel like this is a bit rushed. But please go ahead and tell me if you think so to. I'm just trying to get as many chapters up as I can before I go to camp. If you can; please, please, please review. I'd appreciate it.

Also, yes. I killed Tweek's father. xD  
You'll find out what happened to him later.


	3. Chapter 3

"You guys would never work out as a couple."

For some reason Clyde saying this just pisses me off even further than I was before. I could _not _find my favorite boxers while my sister hogged up the bathroom this morning. And on top of that, I found my dog, Stripes Junior, drinking out of the cat bowl. That irritates me because its so fucking _weird_. But this? This just puts the cherry on top of the ice cream Sunday. I'm a defensive person, and even if I'm defending something I don't entirely believe in, it won't matter as long as I _win_.

"Who's to say? I happen to think Tweek is pretty adorable." I don't look up when I say this. I look right down at my sketch of the human body. I was as much of a talented artist as I was a singer. And that wasn't saying much.

"_Dude_. Gay. It takes more in a relationship then thinking your significant other is 'adorable'. You guys fight so much that you'd probably end up killing each other. And even if you did start to magically have a boner for Tweek, who says he would ever go for you?" And he's absolutely correct. The likeliness of Tweek having a boner for anyone was zero to none. The kid probably masturbates to coffee since he's always around it. His family is nuts! Letting him drink all that shit. And on top of it he even works in his families' shop, so he smells like it.

Not like I go up to him and sniff him or anything like that.

But suddenly an idea crosses my mind. And idea involving Token, Clyde and lots of money. Token was loaded and me? I was dirt poor.

"I bet 200 bucks I could get him in bed by the end of this month."

Oh, the money would be great for my family! I could buy my cat, Corona that cute little toy I saw at the pet store downtown. Or my sister those dolls she's been begging me for. She's been nagging me nonstop and it would be great to stop her chewing off my ear.

Clyde seems to think about this for a few moments, rubbing his chin. I see his upper teeth go down on his lower lip, biting it. He then looks over to Token who is seated at another table.

"400. Token and I will split it. There is no way you're ever going to get him in bed dude, plus, I need a new ipod." He smiles at me, his clean white teeth pissing me off. I roll my eyes and nod my head. More money for me. This would be easy and I know it. Tweek always strikes me as the easy type. I may have to force him a little. But once I get him used to it, I'm sure he won't mind screaming out my name…

--

When I get home I throw my shoes on the floor, along with my backpack and all my school assignments. I have work to do. And it involves somehow getting Tweek's phone number from one of his only friends; Damien. Now. You wouldn't think of them ever being associated with each other. But somehow in the midst of some middle school drama, Tweek became good friends with said demonic boys' best friend Pip by sticking up for him. Pip is the target of everyone's jokes and I guess Tweek got sick of just sitting there watching people push the blond haired boy around. Damien couldn't do a single damn thing about it because of his father threatening to take his ass straight back to hell if he used his demonic powers in the human world again. And from what Kenny tells me, hell isn't an enjoyable place.

So they became very good friends through Pip.

And why can't I just get it from Pip, right? He's gullible and he wouldn't have a second thought about it. But you see, Pip is visiting some girl in Europe for the year and since we're not friends, there wouldn't be any way of contacting him.

So the only other option was Damien. And this was easy because he is president of the debate team and being so, we all have his phone number in case we forget the dates the debate team goes to different schools and well, debates.

So I run straight up to my room and plop down on my bed and quickly grab my phone out of my pocket. I flip it open and scroll through my contact list, locking through the list of names for the certain one I'm looking for. And when I find it; I click send and listen to the ringing, until Damien, squeaky, high-pitched voice answers,

"Hello?"

I do a mental victory dance but stop all of the sudden because—I don't know what I'm supposed to say! C'mon Craig, make something up!

"Hey"

Smooooth.

There is a pause and for a second I thought Damien hung up, but I am surprised when I hear an annoyed response.

"Craig? Is this some kind of joke? What the fuck do you want?"

What do I want? How do I ask him for my biggest rival on the debate team's phone number? I sit there ins ilence and ponder this. And then suddenly I come up with the greatest idea ever. Tweek wasn't at the debate club today,

"Yeah. I just wanted to know if I can have Tweek's number, he wasn't at debate club today and I really need to argue with someone about the topic at hand,"

Right now I can tell Damien is rolling his eyes, I hear him click his tongue and a bit of rustling of paper. Maybe he's looking for his phone book or something.

"Whatever. Its 828-****"

I smile. Yes. Victory is mine. I whisper a thanks and pull the phone away from my ear, push the end button and close my phone up.

I'm going to win this bet, I just know it.

--

Whoever said; "Is that a challenge?" on their review was very, very close. Thank you all so much for reviewing. I really will try to get the fourth chapter up before I go to camp. And of course it will be from Tweek's POV. Woo! I'm excited about the phone call. x3


	4. Chapter 4

_Dear Online Dairy,_

I sit here, on my computer chair, a bottom of a pen placed in between my cheek and my gums as I feel its hard plastic surface rub against my braces. Stupid fucked up teeth. Stupid writers block. I stare at my screen; I was on my favorite website. The only thing I used on my computer with the exception of Myspace and MMORPG's; Sure. Blogging may be a bit over rated. But I was practically famous! And here I was; with writers block. I couldn't get down my current situation down. How to put it in words? How to put my hatred and frustration for one measly person down in text?

_Craig Skeeter Tucker is a fucking __**asshole**__, _

Well thats one way to start it.

_Those who are in a debate team and live in colorado should know that name. Hes my biggest competition; when we're not working together to win a debate—we're working against each other to prove eachother wrong. And trust me. Mr. Craig Tucker isn't as smart as his debate status may say he his. I, Tweek Richard Tweak can kick his ass anyday! And hey! What, may you ask do I have against him?_

But this is when I pause. The pen falls out of my mouth and I actually have to think for a few seconds. One of my hands clutch the fabric by my heart. And I Feel my cheeks heat up just a bit.

Am I really going to be able to admit why I hate him so much? The reasoning is so unclear to me—so foreign. Do I really even hate him? When we fight—I feel electrified. I feel alive and I feel happy. IS that really hatred? Its more like—excitement.

I hit the "back" button. And groan.

Writers Block fucking sucks.

I pull my head back and look up at the ceiling. I have the day off. I should be out somewhere. I should be with Damien, at the beach—trying to find as many seashells as we can find for our collection. There is no one to blame for my boredom and isolation but myself.

But why do I feel like blaming someone?

Suddenly, I feel a vibrating in the pocket of my paints, and slowly, I reach down into the pocket and pull out my cell phone—to read an unfamiliar number.

I contemplate on whether I should answer or not. It could be that creepy girl from Luna Online—Or some random stalker from myspace. But then I realize, how the hell would they have my same area code? And hit the send button.

"Yo." There is a pause, and for a few second I thought maybe the person on the other line hung up.

"Tweek?"

I almost faint when I hear who it is. I bite my lower lip, hard. I'm not in the mood for this.

"How the hell did you get my number, Craig?" I spat. Oh, whoever did this will **pay**.

"Thats not important-- But I wanted to ask,"

"It is fucking important!"

There is a pause, and I continue,

"Don't ever, **EVER**, call me! Craig Tucker you are **not** my friend. And I don't ever want to talk to you unless its school related. So good day!"

And I flip my phone close, clicking the 'end' button.

–

Don't worry, Craig! Things will start to work out for you soon. x)

Thank you for all those who patiently waited and reviewed.


	5. Chapter 5

I was turned down.

Oh hell no. Craig Tucker does not get turned down. Not even by some smart ass-paranoid freak. What the hell is this? I know what it is. Its a challenge! All out war. Tweek, you have no idea what you have just started.

And maybe I don't either. But I know its on.

**Tweek**

"ASS! COCK!"

"TITTY SPRINKLES!"

"Shut the hell up, Cartman." I mumble. Opening one of my eyes to glance on the fatass and the annoying bitch. Ever since Thomas transferred to South Park-- the profanity I've been hearing is constant and quite annoying. I hate the kid. I also hated the disorder he was cursed with. And the jokes and laughter that was followed with it.

"Why don't you make me, pretty boy?" Oh, this caught my attention. I raised an eyebrow, and nonchalantly picked up my head from the table, both eyes open. I already had my grip on my paper coffee cup, and I stared at it, bringing it up to my lips, and as I brought it back down I mumbled something in a sweet, soft voice.

"Would you please repeat that? I did not hear you."

Cartman grinned and gazed over to Thomas. Who only shrugged his shoulder; indicating that he didn't know what the hell was up.

"Why Don't you--" but before he could even finish his sentence, I was standing up, and he was screaming bloody murder as I poured scorching hot coffee onto his fat body.

"TWEEK, YOU FUCKING BITCH!"

I laughed.

I let Thomas watch me as I walk out of the classroom and into the hallways. Cheering me on. I didn't like Thomas. But I loved being the center of attention, sometimes. It made me feel important. Like some kind of character in a book.

I had a smile on my face and 30 minutes until my next class, in which I'd probably have to go to the office. I didn't mind. I have a pretty clean record. But it isn't the first time I have thrown coffee at someone. But hey, they were bothering me first. Right? So all is well.

I continue walking straight until I reach one of the schools many exits. I wasn't all too fond of skipping. But I did think that right now that was the only option. So I begin to make my way out. When I suddenly hear someone calling my name.

"Hey! Tweek!"

I growl in frustration.

"What, Craig?" I hiss, turning around to face him. He was breathing heavily, a bead of sweat running down his cheek. He was obviously running to catch up with me.

"I came in late to school and saw you. And I was wondering if you could pick up Junior tonight?" He rest his hand on my shoulder, and I'm tempted to push him to the ground. But instead I raise an eyebrow at him.

"Junior?"

He nods and smiles at me. Somethings not right here. Craig **never** smiles at me.

"Our baby? You know, the project?"

I blush when he says baby and nod. But did he really have to name it? That is what it is. An... **it**. Its aren't supposed to have names.

"Um, sure. Can you drop it off at the shop tonight? I'm kind of busy." He nods and my gaze shifts to the side, to avoid his own. I feel kind of weird, because of what happened the other night. But its alright. Because what I said was the truth, afterall. I don't want anything to do with Craig.

"Well, seeya around."

And that was that. I begin to make my way out of the schools exit, and make my way onto finding a comfy seat up against the wall.

--

A/N: -Chokes- 17 reviews! SEVENTEEN. Oh my! Is it hot in here or is it just me?!? Thank you so much you guys. The last chapter was CRAP but the review count and the overall statistics for this story made me very happy. Thank you all so much. Next chapter we might actually have some kind of normal interaction between the two. We'll see! Reviews please. :D


End file.
